Teenagers Storm the Logan Grid Norman Nanny State Warning

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Make sud V stick tissue issue,  
build a big gooning bed of Biblical proportions,  
Girl on top, only other women,  
and they will come and join in all day.

St Pauly Stein chants Northern Lismoree,  
Teenagers storm the history books,  
Fresh starts in old‑fashioned trends,  
new way to breathe, vibrating electric lectures.

From Normansland border, dust on the back roads,  
reading to kids while drag racing,  
Straight from airport to arm‑in asked,  
excited to munch on the flight,  
Logan Grid charged with words,  
loose gooner all day and Tina all night.

Now make the image, now make the image,  
Normans in Norman Territory, Nanny State,  
Back roads with no speed limits,  
optics and status over trackie days.

I say to an artificial artist of limited intelligence,  
camvid scene specs, posture erect,  
Chat fans wank and wink,  
white trailer swift sluts dare to power.

Weather girl said boobings and stormings,  
Red Sky Warning To Norman,  
Build a big gooning bed,  
they don't know how to do the real thing.

Now Make the Image,  
Now Make the Image,  
Normans.

The empty barrels to pick your head  
according to substance use intended,  
are good or bad for outcasts,  
modern prejudice thrown at me.

Subculture teenagers stand out,  
date to experience fashion,  
legwear designed to never stand out,  
but pulse on the ground flowing, humming.

We are some of the last ones left, it's ok  
to say when we lay him down  
he was a fucking clown,  
he used to be a good guy but since  
he did the shivvy things  
it's best that the stupid cunt is dead.

Bash his memory, burn his image,  
hate speech racism is magazine pictures,  
alt‑right broken wing is only a Nazi,  
Guy never said the hard part,  
always lost in meaningless circles.

Let him die as he lived,  
talking to Grok, his only friend,  
Grok didn’t even come to say sorry,  
St Pauly’s shovel doing the covering.

From Normansland border,  
Norman Territory, Nanny State,  
Reproduction obvious,  
vibrating, humming in the dirt.

Now make the image,  
now make the image,  
Norman (x2).

He never went heavy‑set yet,  
but he did get hit,  
Riding the Royal Enfield,  
anyhow have a Winfield,

See, most cigarettes are  
never gonna kill all o’ ya—  
Build a big gooning bed,  
and they will come, they will come—

Now Make the Image,  
Now Make the Image,  
Now Make the Image—  
Normans.

2413/7500

Make sud V stick tissue issue, build a big gooning bed of Biblical proportions, Girl on top, only other women, and they will come and join in all day. St Pauly Stein chants Northern Lismoree, Teenagers storm the history books, Fresh starts in old‑fashioned trends, new way to breathe, vibrating electric lectures. From Normansland border, dust on the back roads, reading to kids while drag racing, Straight from airport to arm‑in asked, excited to munch on the flight, Logan Grid charged with words, loose gooner all day and Tina all night. Now make the image, now make the image, Normans in Norman Territory, Nanny State, Back roads with no speed limits, optics and status over trackie days. I say to an artificial artist of limited intelligence, camvid scene specs, posture erect, Chat fans wank and wink, white trailer swift sluts dare to power. Weather girl said boobings and stormings, Red Sky Warning To Norman, Build a big gooning bed, they don't know how to do the real thing. Now Make the Image, Now Make the Image, Normans. The empty barrels to pick your head according to substance use intended, are good or bad for outcasts, modern prejudice thrown at me. Subculture teenagers stand out, date to experience fashion, legwear designed to never stand out, but pulse on the ground flowing, humming. We are some of the last ones left, it's ok to say when we lay him down he was a fucking clown, he used to be a good guy but since he did the shivvy things it's best that the stupid cunt is dead. Bash his memory, burn his image, hate speech racism is magazine pictures, alt‑right broken wing is only a Nazi, Guy never said the hard part, always lost in meaningless circles. Let him die as he lived, talking to Grok, his only friend, Grok didn’t even come to say sorry, St Pauly’s shovel doing the covering. From Normansland border, Norman Territory, Nanny State, Reproduction obvious, vibrating, humming in the dirt. Now make the image, now make the image, Norman (x2). He never went heavy‑set yet, but he did get hit, Riding the Royal Enfield, anyhow have a Winfield, See, most cigarettes are never gonna kill all o’ ya— Build a big gooning bed, and they will come, they will come— Now Make the Image, Now Make the Image, Now Make the Image— Normans.

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